A Bowl Full Of Memories
by Mika Uriah
Summary: A little girl reflects on an important relationship in her life, over a bowl of cereal - Original Character.


06:31

Disclaimer: I own: Danica Nicole Logan and "Lola" Reynolds and I own Leslie. I don't own: xmen or cheerios

A/N: sorry if this is formatted weird, I am using a new program that doesn't like to be formatted the way I like stuff to be formatted – **sigh**.

Logan was putting his 1-year old granddaughter: Logan-Ann, whom everyone christened with the nickname 'Lola' in the highchair, her 16-year-old mother was asleep. She was up all night with a teething Lola, So, Logan decided to let her sleep until she needed to ready for her exam later on in the day.

Logan looked at his namesake and shook his head, she was a beautiful brunette baby with tight ringlets, big brown eyes and an infectious dimple-filled smile, and she was also a ball full of energy at seven in the morning and didn't want to sit still.

Logan was damn proud of his daughter, Danica, a product of a one-night stand seventeen years ago. Danica Nicole Logan, got pregnant at 15, when she told him, he cried harder then she did. Some how she managed to get up whenever Lola needed her in the middle of the night, hold her 3.5 GPA, a part time job and spend as much time with Lola that she possibly could. Logan didn't remember the last time Danica got a good night's sleep, but she was a damn good mother.

Logan often heard of when teenagers got pregnant, that the grandparents usually ended up taking care of their grandchildren, like parents instead of the teenager doing the parenting. Logan admitted, he was nervous about this happening, but Danica managed to pull through, even when Lola's father left them both.

Logan looked at the calendar as he put some cheerios on the trey of his grand daughter's high chair; tomorrow was Saturday, 'Pop-pop and Lola day' – Every Saturday he kidnapped his granddaughter and did different stuff with her that only grandpa's seemed to be able to do.

One Saturday he took her to an antiques car show, Last Saturday he took her fishing, although he spent the day making sure she didn't eat the worms of fall off the dock; "what are we going to do tomorrow, huh, Lola?"

She smiled, giggled the way only one-year olds seem to be able to do and gave him a cheerio, Logan chuckled, kissed her forehead and gave her a bottle with some milk in it "pop-pop!" she hummed to herself.

He thought about what to make her for breakfast, he was happy to get some semblance of a name, rather then a random raspberry and gibberish, he put on the coffee pot and heard the familiar sounding whirr of Charles Xavier's wheelchair "Mornin' Chuck," Logan greeted.

"Good morning, Logan, I see you have Miss Lola today."

"Just for a few hours, Dani was up all night with her and she has an exam later, figured I'd give her a few hours of sleep."

"For a second I thought it was Saturday."

Logan chuckled; Lola banged on the trey until Charles said good morning to her; Charles happily obliged with a kiss on a cheek and a gentle tickle to her stomach, Lola squealed and like every morning and rewarded Charles with her bottle of milk.

Like Every morning, Charles grabbed a bowl of cheerios with the 2% milk he liked, instead of the skim milk he should have; Logan fixed them both some coffee and put some toast in the toaster for Lola. The men then talked about whatever was in the newspaper and sports.

Nothing ever really changed when it came to their little routine, it was always: Logan, Lola and Charles, sometimes they were joined by another person, usually: Danica.

"Can I ask ya a question Chuck?"

"I believe you just did, Logan."

"Heh cute, can I ask why ya have a bowl of cheerios every morning I mean it don't matter, it' s just, the fridge and the pantry are stocked with enough foods for ya to create any breakfast ya want, why that?"

Charles ate a little wheat O and thought about his answer "you are the only one to ask that, Logan," he smiled "to be honest, I think the others just think it's a matter of the old habits of an even older man."

Logan nodded; this reason seemed to pass as a likely explanation.

Charles mused as he watched Lola bang her bottle on the trey of the highchair, instead of eating the toast and peanut butter in front of her; "can I tell you Logan? If you don't mind listening to the musings of an old man."

Logan shrugged "I'm older than you Chuck, yer lucky, ya can remember stuff to tell yer nieces and nephews and such, I...can't really remember any of that stuff, I can't tell my granddaughter stories 'bout growin' up," he nodded "I guess what I'm sayin' Chuck is that, if ya wanna tell me, then, I'll be honored to listen."

Charles nodded and collected his thoughts, Lola's hands smacked on the trey and into her peanut butter toast as a steady and rhythmic drum beat for Charles to collect his thoughts with, and the trick was to get through the story with out tearing up.

"About, ten years before you came, I was married, to a beautiful woman named Leslie, she was warm and confident. Beautiful both inside and out, she befriended all the women instantly; talking Science with Jean and Politics and plant life with Ororo as the three women cooked meals that should've been on the cover of gourmet magazine, not on our kitchen table," he smiled remembering the laughs and tears shared in this kitchen, not only amongst the students but with him and his wife as well.

"How'd ya meet?" he seen the photos of Leslie and Charles, but never thought to ask if they were married, he never thought it was any of his business, he figured if Charles wanted to bring it up he would've brought it up, Logan wasn't in the business of bringing up people's pasts.

"Hank some how convinced me to take a creative memoir writing course at one of the local colleges, twice a week in the evenings. She wrote this beautiful haunting piece of her mother being a holocaust survivor; we talked over coffee a few times, read each other's work. The rest as they say, is history; we were married six months after we met, a small ceremony here at the estate, just our friends and family nothing big and extravagant." He shrugged and played with his fingers.

Logan wasn't entirely book smart, not that he remembered anyway, but he got the feeling that this love story didn't exactly end in divorce, Logan urged him to continue when he was ready.

Charles sighed "one day about two years into our marriage, Leslie and I were…Being intimate, and I found a lump in her breast, I urged her to get it checked, she thought it was just fibrous tissue or something, turns out she was wrong." He breathed and then continued, "It was cancerous, and she was gone with in six months. Even with all the chemo, radiation and surgeries."

"Damn," Logan shook his head, what was that saying? Only the good died young?

"The chemo and radiation made her really sick, she used to think it made her sicker then the cancer had. Les was probably right about that one. Anyway, because she was so sick, she'd sleep, a lot, Sometimes 18 or 20 hours a day.

She had a case of the sometimes: Sometimes she'd be strong enough to talk and laugh and sit down stairs on the porch with us after a treatment and drink some tea, other days she could barely make it to the toilet to lose what little eaten that day." It was getting harder for him to get through the story, but he needed to talk about it, it's been so long "Sometimes she'd wake up at three in the morning, starving, with a craving for honey-nut cheerios, like she had when she was a little kid. When the cancer got really bad, near the end, it affected her memory and her mind, almost like an older woman with Alzheimer's.

More cases of the sometimes: Some days she was strong enough to come down with me for a bowl, other days I'd bring up the box and we'd sit in bed at three in the morning and eat cheerios in the dark, Logan I'm telling you, I don't know what it was with that bowl of cereal; but some of my best memories in that two in a half years of marriage, was eating cereal with her in the dark; Some of our best conversations. We've travelled all over the world with each other, some of the best vacation spots you can imagine: Bali, Bora Bora, Australia, and China, but some of my best memories were with her and this damned little wheat O. Even after she died I found myself getting up in the middle of the night to fix a bowl."

It was almost five minutes before anyone said anything, Charles was in his own dreams and memories and was trying to not get emotional; Logan was stuck in his mind everything he just learned, he found himself swallowing down the lump of emotion in his throat.

Did he say something profound and comforting? Did he keep his Canadian mouth shut? Could the feral Canadian, think of something to say if he had too?

"Maybe," Logan didn't recognize his own voice "maybe it's because it reminded ya to appreciate the small things?" he shrugged "ya were so busy with Chemo, n' Radiation n' surgeries n' surviving, those little wheat Os as ya called them, reminded ya that ya need to stop and admire the small things too; the flower between the cracks in the side walk, a baby's laughter, n' what not."

Charles absorbed this, by folding his hands and letting the index fingers rest against his chin or bottom lip "I, admit, I was trying to figure out why that was all this time, I never thought about it that way before Logan, I think you might be right."

"I have my moments."

"You have more then a few moments in you, Logan, you and I both know that."

"Papa!" Lola suddenly said, loudly. Reminding the two men that they weren't alone in the kitchen.

Charles grinned and kissed Lola on the head she was staring at him instead of Logan "yes, Lola?"

"Ah!" she squealed and opened her mouth and waited patiently for Charles to spoon some of his breakfast into her mouth.

Logan shook his head and grinned, realizing that she wasn't going to eat the toast, instead she would rather mush it into a paste and paint her high chair with it; "on the bright side, it looks like ya got someone else ya can share a bowl full of memories with."

"Maybe you are right, Logan," he spoon-fed the 1 year old a few cheerios, that were now soggy in milk.

"Yummy!" Lola grinned

Charles chuckled, "what do you think, Lola, think you can handle a few more dozen of these breakfasts with me n' your grandfather."

"Yep," she patiently waited for another spoon full.

**24 years later**

25 Year old Logan-Ann Reynolds, was a student at Cornell University getting her (Master of Architecture), and although it was a four hour drive from Ithaca to Westchester she found herself spending every possible moment she could at the old Xavier estate, her papa's estate, even though Charles wasn't her grandfather; she was lucky, she had more uncles, aunts and grandfather's then most children had in a life time.

She woke up early Sunday morning as always, she was wearing boy shorts and a tank top despite it being early September, she liked this time of year, it was still warm enough to wear t-shirts and sometimes sandals, but the leaves where changing color, marking the beginning of something new was in the air.

She took the familiar yellow box of cereal down from the cupboard and filled the bowl as always, she put a bit of milk and sugar and instead of sitting down at the table, she took the box with her, like she did every time she was over at Xavier's. She walked outside, barefoot. Lola hated shoes. Always have; She walked down the little stone path way and said good morning, in her own little way to the cicadas and the little sparrows that always seemed to have a song to sing in the mornings, she walked past the Oak tree she broke her arm until she made it passed the hill, to the small grave marker and sat down in front of it "Hi papa" she smiled and ran her fingers over the name 'Charles Frances Xavier: Friend, Mentor, Teacher.'

If she closed her eyes she could picture, Charles, sitting at the kitchen table, reading the newspaper and drinking a cup of coffee, until she was ready to have a bowl of cereal with him.

Every memory she could remember happening, seemed to happen over a bowl of cheerios with Charles: her first day of kindergarten, the first time she kissed a boy (the second day of kindergarten), Loosing her first tooth, when Deborah said that she didn't want to be her friend when she was 7, when she was 8 and was the only girl in the class to not be invited to Nikki's birthday party, when she found out there was no Santa, When Ororo was moving back to Africa to marry T'Challa. The first time Lola decided to sneak out, the fourth time she did it and the first time she got caught (well the first time she got caught by her mother, anyway). Everything she could remember was some how down over a bowl of cheerios, it was like the cereal was keeping all of her memories.

She was terrified when she crashed the car when she was 16, Charles poured her a bowl of cheerios and told her the same thing he told her every time something managed to blow up in her face: "Cars can be fixed, windows can be re-glassed, carpets can be cleaned: as long as you weren't hurt, that's all that matters" and he would pat her hand or kiss her wavy brown hair and then they would continue on with the rest of the day...Or in some cases, they'd continue on with the rest of the night.

"I got a job offer, even though I'm not done my Masters yet, this company in Washington…I know, what you're going to say." She poured a couple of wheat O's on the grave, and imagined pouring him a bowl "if it makes you happy, then why don't you do it…what about mom though, she'll need me here. I know; Washington isn't that long of a drive can I do it though? I mean is it possible? What happened to me teaching here?" The wind whipped around her hair and she felt him messing it up just to see her screw up her face and she knew the answer to this question too, she just needed to voice it to someone "this is my home, and I will always have a place here, amongst the X-men, even though I am not a mutant." She looked up the clouds as she poured herself another bowl of cereal and ate this stuff dry since she didn't take out the milk "I miss these conversations you know, I know...I know...I can have these conversations with you anywhere, this way is…just more comforting. Seeing you." She sighed, "even if it's like this."

She didn't dare tell anyone outside the estate that she blew off sleepovers with gorgeous men, to have breakfast in the mornings like this, with him. She would be institutionalized for sure.

"I think Tim is going to ask me to marry him." She bit her lip "I think I might say no, I don't want to break up with him, he's a great guy, its just…Marriage? Really? I…I don't know if that's for me. Mom wants grandchildren, but does that mean that I have to give up my life to do what she wants? What if I find an orphaned child somewhere amongst my travels? I don't think she'd love her grand child any less if it wasn't biological, and she definitely proved, that I don't have to be married to be a wonderful mother."

Yes, she was aware that she was asking and answering all of these questions out loud did she care? Eh, no. Some people journal, others meditate, she had a bowl of cheerios with her dead adopted grandfather.

She finished the box and she should've been on the road three hours ago, but she could never tear her way from his grave site, when he first died, ten years ago, Logan used to find her sleeping curled up in front of it, almost like she was waiting for Santa to come.

She sighed "I think I have to go now, papa, I know, I don't wanna go either." She kissed the grave and imagined him kissing her cheek as a response "same time tomorrow? Different place though, I have to head back to go to school" she giggled, and she felt the breeze whip around her body gently "I love you too."

She stood up and picked up her bowl, spoon and the empty yellow box and headed back inside slowly, knowing she'd see him again tomorrow, only if it was with breakfast.


End file.
